


Valediction

by jccreates



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Dog Snuggles, F/M, Plague, Pre-Canon, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 12:15:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17386307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jccreates/pseuds/jccreates





	Valediction

It was starting. The thing I feared most was coming to pass. I shakily raised a hand to my face and leaned in towards the mirror. When the cough started the day before I brushed it off as nothing to be concerned about, but as I looked at the pale pink color that had begun taking over the white of my right eye, I knew I could deny it no longer: The plague that was killing its way through Vesuvia had arrived to take me too.

The truth of the matter hit me at once. Blood roared in my ears and my legs gave out from under me. As I cradled my head in my hands and tried to catch my breath, Asra’s words from when we last spoke rang over and over in my mind. _Taya, if you stay here, you might die._ I had accepted the possibility of death, of course, but the reality was much worse than I could’ve imagined.

My next thought turned to _him_. Julian. He would blame himself, of course, as he did with every patient who died before he could find a cure. And I wasn’t just any patient… He didn’t feel the same way for me as I did for him, of that I was certain. But I was his apprentice and we were… close. This… this might break him. Still, the color was subtle, I could probably hide the truth for a short while. I knew I had to put on a brave face; if not for myself, then for him. I took a few centering breaths, peeled myself off the ground and onto shaky legs, and made my way to the clinic.

My hands were still shaking when I pushed open the door. “Good morning Dr. Devorak!” I greeted with all the false cheer I could muster.

“Ah, Taya!” Julian replied, not looking up from his notebook as his scrappy old dog padded over to greet me. “Brundle’s almost as happy to see you as I am.”

I knew it was a lie, he hadn’t even glanced up in my direction, but still, I allowed myself to accept the compliment. “What are you working on?”

“Ohoho, just you wait, Taya. This theory I have, it’s going to change everything, I can feel it. But for now, we have some patients we must attend to.”

* * *

 

It was crowded; every day it seemed like there were more and more patients coming into the clinic. Still, Julian kept up his cheerful demeanor around them. Some doctors acted cold, detached around patients they knew were going to die, but never Julian. He was so good with them. I watched him from across the room while taking the temperature of an older woman, clearly in the later stages of the disease. He was in the midst of caring for a young patient that couldn’t have been any older than sixteen. Though Julian had his back to me, I could tell from his body movements that he was entertaining the boy with a tale from one of his great childhood adventures. From the dramatic flail of his arms, I guessed it was the story of the time he tried to stow away on the ship of a visitor to Nevivon. In spite of everything, a small smile broke through on the boy’s face, one that I felt reflected on my own.

Suddenly, I felt my patient’s gaze keenly on me and instinctively looked in her direction. She was studying my eyes with a deep sadness. _She knew._ My head began to swim. Would she tell Julian? Or someone else, someone worse? Someone who would take me away? She reached up, gently placing a hand on my cheek, red eyes soft with sympathy. I forced back the tears that were forming in my own.

“Please,” I whispered, glancing back over at Julian, “Don’t tell.” Her own red eyes followed, and she nodded sadly, squeezing my hands.

* * *

 

Later, as we were tidying up, a cough escaped my mouth, but I managed to disguise it as clearing my throat.

“Dr. Devorak, are we going to go through the book today?”

“Hmm? Right. I can’t break my concentration right now, my dear. I’m on the precipice of something big! Skating right along the edge! But I have every confidence that you will be able to decipher my handwriting on your own. And I’ve told you before, Taya,” He flashed me a charming smile over his shoulder that still made my heart leap, even with everything that was going on, “Call me Julian.” I walked over to his messy desk, trying to chase away the feeling of deep disappointment.

As I shifted around scrolls, balled up scrap paper, and books, I was able to uncover the notebook. I leaned over the table and slowly flipped through the pages. Ordinarily we would go through it together, Julian explaining all the different symptoms and teaching me about various remedies and how they work. Seeing him passionately and confidently discussing something he was so knowledgeable about, it was my favorite part of the day. But now he was a million miles away, lost in his own thoughts. I blinked back a tear and focused my blurred vision on the words in front of me, the section on the plague. Each page contained notes and sketches of the progression of the disease, each more distressing than the last. The more I flipped through Julian’s book, the more I wondered: Is this what was going to become of me? I stared down at the letters in bold black ink in the center of the page: **LAZARET**. Suddenly, an oncoming coughing fit took over and though I tried to fight it back, it came harder and faster than I could manage. I quickly grabbed a rag off a nearby table to muffle the sounds. Once the coughing subsided, I stared down at the fabric in my hand, transfixed. The angry red splatters stood out starkly against the white of the cloth, taunting me.

“Are you alright there, Taya?” Julian looked up in my direction. Of course he chose now to pay attention.

“Oh, um, yes!” I slipped the blood stained rag into my pocket before he could notice. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“Alright, my dear, I’m off to—well, off to see the boss.” He had that deep uneasiness to him that he always got when he had to go see Quaestor Valdemar and as always, I had an overwhelming urge to beg him not to go, to protect him from whatever made him feel such dread. I never knew where it was that they met, but from the haunted shade that cast over Julian’s ordinarily jovial demeanor when he would return, I knew it was somewhere I never wanted to be.

_Tell him_ , I scolded myself, watching him gather his things in order to leave. _Tell him that you love him and that you’re… you’re dying. This is your last chance so just_ tell _him._

“Dr. Devorak!” I blurted out. I steadied myself and took a breath before continuing. “ _Julian_. I have something I need to tell you. I—“

“Ah ha! Hold that thought, Taya!” He picked up a bottle from the shelf near the door, stared at it intensely, then scribbled messily into the small notepad he fished out of his jacket before shoving it back inside. “Now, what did you want to tell me?”

“I… I…” I let out a sigh and forced a small, closed mouth smile onto my face, “Just, take care.”

“Always do, my dear. Well… sometimes.” With one last roguish grin he was gone.

After I heard the click of the clinic door come to a close, I let myself fall apart again. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t tell him. I doubled over, sobs racking my body as I lay on the floor. It wasn’t the most sanitary place in the world by a long shot, but what harm could it do me now? I felt something soft brush against me before dropping to the floor. I rolled over and buried my face into Brundle’s side, clutching her fur as if it would hold me to this world. We stayed like this until long after the sun had gone down.

* * *

 

They came for me soon after, as I knew they would. Still, I’m grateful it was simply faceless figures in masks and not the Quaestor. The things Julian had told me about Valdemar were enough to keep me up at night, and that was with him sparing me from the worst of it.

Down at the docks, they forced us ahead, a procession of corpses marching to their own funerals. The rush of people were forced onto boats, all of us waiting for an ending. Some were delusional from the fever. I wish that I had been. It might have made it easier to endure. As I stepped onto the black sand of the Lazaret, I took in the sight of the bone fragments on the ground and the stench of death in the air. I wanted to scream, to burst out in tears, but I had nothing left in me. Instead I continued moving forward and accepted that this was the last place I was ever going to see.

It’s too late now. As I lay here watching the swirling smoke left behind from those who perished before me, I know I have only hours left, maybe less. When I think about what could have been—the adventures not taken, the laughs not shared, the love not given—I only have one thing left to say.

“I’m sorry.”


End file.
